


Gifts and Guilt

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Children, F/M, Family, Post Bartlett Administration, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-26
Updated: 2009-07-26
Packaged: 2019-05-15 19:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14796195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: "Donna, you're feeling guilty about not feeling guilty."





	Gifts and Guilt

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers through end of series

 

Feedback and criticism always welcomed

 

Not mine, never were, never will be, but they consume my soul  


* * *

_September 17, 2015; San Luis Obispo, CA; late afternoon_

“I should feel guilty; I think I’d feel better if I felt a little guilty.”

CJ looked over to her right, where Donna was idly moving her arm through the steamy, sulfur-scented waters of the hot springs pool.

“You are feeling guilty, Donna,” CJ laughed. “You’re feeling guilty about not feeling guilty.”

Donna splashed at her companion.

“What about you? You also have a son in first grade. Don’t you think you should be there?”

“But, Donna, I was there. I was there for the first day, for the first week and a half, actually, and you were there even longer, ‘cause Noah started before Labor Day, right?”

“Yeah, but - ”

“And as the mother of two children, I know I deserve this break, so as the mother of four, you certainly de-”.

“Okay, okay. You win,” Donna sighed. “Besides, lying here, in this warmth, feeling all the gunk just soaking out of my body, it’s hard to feel bad about anything. Except I haven’t bought the kids anything at the gift shop yet. Or Josh, for that matter.”

“We’ll have time for that after dinner. Or maybe after breakfast tomorrow.”

“I wonder why Frank and Sarita are waiting until tomorrow to hear our final report,” Donna mused. “If they’re coming by for dinner, you’d think they would want to get it out of the way tonight.”

“I don’t know, but I’m glad we have one more night. I’ve enjoyed being away these few days,” CJ answered.

“It **is** nice to have the luxury of solitude,” Donna agreed. “And to enjoy a nice breakfast with someone pouring your coffee, asking how you want your eggs, instead of asking you for waffles instead of French toast, or spilling milk over the paper. And it’s not as if my kids aren’t used to having someone else take care of them for a few days, after what Josh and I put them through in DC.”

“Amen to the civilized breakfast, every once in a while. Danny cancelled all his office hours for the week and didn’t schedule any meetings, so the only times Caitlin is with Diana or Hank or one of the others is his classes. This year, that’s a seminar on Monday afternoon, another on Wednesday morning, and two classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He doesn’t have to leave the house before 9:00 and he’s usually home by 4:30. I miss him, I guess, but I’m also going to miss this resort. I don’t know about your room, but that has got to be one of the most comfortable beds in the world. Being able to stretch out across the width of a king is great; especially switching over to cool sheets when a hot flash strikes. And the water pressure in the shower!”

“I know. That’s another thing I feel guilty about. I miss Josh for myself, but when I’m not horny for him, I feel no guilt about not being there for him. Does that make sense?”

“Sure.”

And it did make sense to CJ. As much as she loved Danny, as much as she reveled in their physical intimacy, she would be lying if she didn’t admit, at least to herself, that over the past eight years, there had been times when, waking to the warmth of his breath on her cheek, the gentle scratch of his beard on her neck, the caress of his hand on her stomach, and the insistent pressure of his arousal on her backside, all she wanted to do was go back to sleep. Not many times, twenty at most, but there had been times. It was normal, a part of the new life that the two of them had gotten good at living.

It also made sense because she felt the same desires as had Donna. Not for Josh, of course, (and CJ stifled the giggle at that thought), but last night, she had awakened about two and found herself aching, turning onto her stomach, wondering if she had anything that would substitute for what she wanted other than her own fingers. Ah, well, tomorrow morning, after their breakfast meeting, the limo would come. She would be dropped off in Santa Monica while Donna and three other members of the committee to select the new CFO for the Hollis Foundation would be taken to LAX.

The group had been at this oceanside resort southwest of the college town since Monday night. Under CJ’s guidance, they had written the position description and requirements advertisement that would be published next week, had decided that once the résumés (electronic only) started arriving, each committee member would review them and select seven to fifteen applicants that he or she deemed suitable for further consideration. CJ would assimilate the information and ten to twenty candidates would be interviewed by the committee in Hartford, Atlanta, Chicago, Seattle, and San Diego. Finally, the top five candidates would be brought to San Luis Obispo for intensive individual two day interview sessions with every member of the foundation’s staff. They hoped to have a new CFO in place by the end of March.

“Thank you, again, CJ, for choosing me for this search committee. I was getting a bit frustrated with the slow crawl of getting things done on the school board; if this search completes on time, it will feel good to start and finish something in half a year.”

“When Frank asked me to include someone from the Santos or Bartlet administrations, he said he wanted someone with big bureaucracy experience but he also wanted someone ‘out of the financial box’. You’re perfect,” CJ answered. Then she sighed and stood up in the soaking pool. “I hate to leave this warm, watery womb-like experience, but I think it’s time to get ready for supper.”

There was a groan from the slender blonde who shared the spa, followed by the sound of another body leaving the water.

_September 18, 2015; Santa Monica, CA; early afternoon_

CJ gathered her purse and lowered the window as the limousine turned onto her block. Looking out the window, she could see Danny and Caitlin in front of the house. (She had called when they were about a mile from the house.) Caitlin was waving furiously.

The limo driver pulled into the drive. While the chauffeur opened the trunk, Danny opened the door and helped CJ out of the vehicle. There was a quick good-bye to the others as Danny took CJ’s suitcase from the driver and slipped the man a twenty. As the limo backed out of the drive, CJ was kneeling on the walk hugging her little girl. Standing, she turned to Danny. There was time for for a quick kiss and a glance that said so much before Caitlin grabbed her mother’s hand and pulled her to the house.

“Mama home lunch! Me fix!” Caitlin exclaimed as she led the way to the patio dining set tucked in the southwest corner of the courtyard.

The table was set (The forks were on the proper side of the plate, but they were upside down, with the tines pointing toward the edge. When CJ mentioned it to Danny later, he told her that Caitlin said it was easier to grab it. Knowing how Caitlin held her fork, grabbing it in her fist, CJ realized that her daughter was right.) and the plates were already fixed. Chicken fingers and carrot sticks made up the entrée. Caitlin had thoughtfully pre-doused the meat with bright red “duck” dipping sauce. A little cup of apple slices and caramel sauce sat above each plate.

“Here sit Mama.” Caitlin pointed her to a chair. Next to the glass of bright yellow juice, complete with maraschino cherry, was a clumsily wrapped package (with almost more tape than paper) tied with a lopsided bow.

“Mama home present,” Caitlin explained.

“You bought me a welcome home present?”

“Caitlin make,” came the reply. “Open.”

Inside the package were two strings of rigatoni, obviously meant to be necklace and bracelet. The uncooked pasta had been died blue and green and the colors alternated.

“How lovely!” CJ said. She took off the cotton big shirt she wore in the air-conditioned limo, revealing a scoop-necked tank top. After kissing Caitlin, she put the necklace over her head and the bracelet on her wrist. “Thank you so much! But don’t you want to know what I bought for you?”

“P’lite no ask, Daddy say,” Caitlin answered, but her eyes brightened.

CJ reached into her bag (“Purse on steroids” Danny called it), brought out a doll dressed in Native American costuming and the latest Disney DVD, and handed the items to her daughter. Caitlin oohed and aahed for a while, until Danny said that their lunch was getting hot, or maybe cold, but definitely should be eaten as soon as possible.

After lunch, Caitlin was tearing around the kitchen and the family room with Destiny while CJ and Danny cleaned up after lunch. Danny put the leftovers in the refrigerator and came up behind CJ, who was rinsing the dishes. He put his arms around her waist and kissed the side of her face.

“I woke her up early today, hoping that she would tire out and give us a little time before Paddy gets home from school.”

CJ heard the slight degree of disappointment in Danny’s voice. She turned around and pressed her hips close to him, aware of the semi-hard ridge under his jeans and moved slightly from side to side, knowing that it would at the same time tease and comfort her husband as well as herself.

“Then you shouldn’t have allowed her to feed us, and her, all that sugar at lunch. Between the sauce on the chicken and the apple dip, she’ll be wired until supper. Maybe we can get her to watch the DVD.”

“We can’t leave her alone, even if she’s enthralled with a movie, CJ.”

“No, but we can watch it with her. We can put a blanket over our laps,” CJ said, “and give each other han-”. Danny’s mouth cut off the rest of the phrase.

“I think I’d rather be patient until tonight,” he told CJ. “Not that I don’t like the idea; in fact I like it too much. I might not be able to keep from reacting, and I’m sure that I would make you scream. Anyway, did you bring me a present?”

“Well, yes, but it, like the other, has to wait for tonight. It’s a massage oil that’s supposed to ‘enhance the physical experience’. But what about me?”

“The jewelry isn’t enough?” Danny laughed, running his finger along edge of the necklace where it sat on the rise of CJ’s bustline.

“Actually, Caitlin has good taste. If these tubes were lapis and jade rather than spaghetti-” (Danny made a mental note to check with Hank about the possibility; CJ’s birthday was only about seven weeks away.) But no, Fishboy, Caitlin doesn’t get you off the hook,” CJ told him.

“Well, I **did** buy the flowers on the table and I **did** buy a bottle of Bailey’s for after the kids go to bed tonight.”

Danny continued to trail his fingers across the swelling beneath her shoulders; it sent pleasant feelings shooting down her abdomen to her thighs.

“Well, then, I guess both of us will be saying ‘thank you’ this evening. And next time, ixnay on the ugar-say, capish?”

_3:45 PM_

“Mama! What did you bring me?”

Paddy rushed into the courtyard and ran up to hug his mother.

“Paddy!” Danny exclaimed. “What did I say about that?”

“Sorry. I missed you, Mama.”

“I missed you too, baby,” CJ said, returning the hug. Her mother’s mind noticed the tear at the left knee of his navy blue pants and thought to herself that maybe she should have used her uniform exchange credits to get some of Paddy’s clothes for the new school year rather than donating the credits to the bank for needy parishioners who wanted to send their kids to St. Monica’s school.

Last year, there had been some discussion about changing the primary school from navy shorts, pants, and skirts (for the girls) to khaki to help further differentiate the kids from the kindergartners and the middle school. However, the PTO decided to keep everyone in navy and just continue with the different shirts (kindergarten in navy and green rugby-style stripes or green solid, primary kids in navy and white or white solid, middle-school with green and white or blue solid.) CJ had been in the group favoring the status quo; Diana said it didn’t matter because at that age, the kids outgrew the stuff so fast, you could barely make it through one school year in the same clothes, let alone five.

In any event, she and Danny had turned in the things Paddy had managed to outgrow before destroying and bought the new shirts and sweatshirts. (Pants and shorts could come from anywhere as long as they were dark navy with no embellishments.)

“At least we don’t have to deal with the plaid for a while,” CJ had told Danny. “That’s the expensive option, the one you have to get from the uniform company. The boys can get shorts in middle school, but the girls have the option of the plaid jumper all the time.”

“Ceej, it’s only money and we can afford it,” Danny had answered. “Don’t worry about it. If it’s easier to have ten changes for him, get that much.”

“But he’ll outgrow them by Thanksgiving at the rate he’s sprouting.”

“Then we thank God for a healthy child.” Then Danny had pulled her down into his lap and Paddy’s clothing became the least important thing on CJ’s mind.

So now, CJ quickly figured out that if she got Paddy out of the pants in the next five minutes, she could fix the rip with mending tape. Therefore, after giving him the archery set (with suction cups in place of arrowheads), she told him to change into play clothes before opening it and setting up the target in the courtyard.

“Paddy,” Danny warned, “if you aim at anything other than the target, the arrow won’t stick, and, if you aim at another person or at Destiny, everything gets locked up for at least three days. And speaking of presents -”.

“I forgot!” Paddy ran into the family room and came back with a little lattice box made of popsicle sticks.

“It’s for the stuff that Caitlin made for you.”

“Thank you, honey. It’s just perfect; now go change.”

When the boy came back, Danny helped Paddy set up the target. After fastening the little arm guard (“Believe me, that string can cut. Don’t you ever use the bow without putting on the guard.”), father taught son how to sight the bulls eye. CJ patiently listened as Caitlin’s little mind ad libbed adventures for her new dolly. Destiny retrieved the arrows that missed the target, her tail wagging with happiness at being able to exercise the task imbedded in her DNA.

_8:45 PM_

“Sleep safe, Paddy,” CJ whispered as she bent down to adjust the sheet over her son and to kiss his forehead.

“You, too, furkid,” she continued, stroking the dog who lay at the foot of the bed. Destiny opened her eyes, lifted her head, and then went back to sleep. CJ had long ago given up on trying to keep the animal off Paddy’s bed. (“I slept with Pistol for twelve years.” “And look how you turned out.”)

As she walked from Paddy’s room to Caitlin’s, she heard the sound of Danny checking the doors and windows. It was a warm night and the aroma of the steaks and corn that Danny had grilled for their supper hung in the air. (Tomatoes and watermelon completed the early autumn meal.)

The marriage gods had, for the most part, smiled on them today. The afternoon was warm, but not so warm that the kids wanted to use the pool. Donna called about 7:45 to let them know that she had arrived home safely and to let them know that Noah had undergone a rite of passage at school -- his first playground fight. He had a cut on his nose and another on his left hand, but, according to Josh, the other boy looked worse. (“Josh tried to be stern, but he had a hard time hiding his pride. According to the principal, the fight was over politics, with the other boy badmouthing Matt, so Paddy called the child a liar. Then the kid threw the first punch, so he’s in hotter water than Noah is, at least at school. Lord knows what his parents are telling the boy about Noah and his evil parents.”) Paddy had a full day at school (which is probably why he had torn his pants) and was more than ready to hit the hay at 8:30. Caitlin’s lunchtime sugar high wore off in the middle of supper and Danny ended up carrying her to bed before dessert.

“Mama bad dream,” Caitlin told her mother when CJ walked into the room, holding up her little arms. CJ sat down on her daughter’s bed and sang to the child until her slow steady breathing indicating that she was back asleep. Hopefully, Caitlin wouldn’t have another nightmare; CJ’s plans for the rest of the night did not include getting up to soothe a troubled little girl. As she got up, CJ noticed that while Caitlin had played all afternoon with the doll that CJ had bought her, said doll was now on the window seat with Caitlin’s other ones; as usual, Caitlin’s bed companion was the caveman toy from Aisling.

Entering the master bedroom, she noted that Danny had opened the windows that faced the ocean. With the days growing shorter, it was already dark, but being Friday, the sounds of cars driving up and down the beach road and the more muted sounds of music coming from the pier indicated that the night was young.

The bedside lamp on Danny’s side was on its lowest wattage and the afore-mentioned bottle of Bailey’s, along with two “on the rocks” glasses, was sitting beside it. Danny was on the bed, stripped down to a pair of Notre Dame boxers.

CJ smiled at Danny as she took off her jewelry (the earrings and watch she put on in San Luis Obispo as well as the dyed pasta that Caitlin had crafted) and set the pieces on her dresser.

“CJ, have you ever wanted a vanity set?”

“A vanity set?”

“You know, one of those tables with a big mirror and a chair, for you to do your hair and your makeup?”

“I’m happy with the bathroom, Danny. I can see, and I don’t really need a chair. Why?” CJ wondered.

“Well, in my Popular Literature seminar, one of the kids turned in a paper proposal, on the treatment of male reaction to the female bosom. Her idea wasn’t that well-developed but it does have potential. Anyway, she presented some examples that she would explore, like the way that the Carol Landis/Marilyn Monroe character in “Valley of the Dolls” committed suicide when she was diagnosed with breast cancer because her senator boyfriend waxes so lyrical about them, a few other things like that.

“But the one that really hit me was from one of the novels that priest friend of Father Luke wrote. The middle-aged man is lying in bed and is talking, to the reader, I mean, about how you can tell whether or not your wife is amenable to love-making by observing her while she brushes her hair, whether she’s bare-breasted, in her underwear or lingerie, or a robe. Anyway, it got me to thinking about watching you in undress or semi-dress, doing your hair or your makeup.” The last was spoken a bit wistfully, the words trailing off into a whisper.

CJ smiled as she slipped out of her sandals and her slacks. She pulled the tank over her head and the bra straps from her shoulders, then reached behind her to unhook the back. She stood there in her panties, running her fingers through her hair as if she were combing it; she moved to Danny’s side. As CJ passed her bag, she reached in for the massage oil. Kneeling on either side of Danny’s thighs, she opened the bottle and poured some of its contents onto Danny’s chest.

In a few minutes, he was rigid and she was wet. His entry was swift and deep, but once he reached home, his motion was slow and gentle. She reveled in the feeling of fullness and the teasing clitoral friction.

They knew when it was time to leave tender for tempest; over the years, they knew exactly where the line was between hard and hurt; they balanced on that edge until first she and then he spasmed into fulfillment.

Later, they sipped their Irish Cream, from their glasses and from each other’s mouths. At one point, Danny shifted and CJ caught a flash of color under his pillow. She reached down and pulled out a pair of her panties. They were not the pair Danny had removed a while ago.

“Danny?” she asked. “Are you borrowing my underwear? Is there something you need to tell me?”

“That I missed you and I needed the scent of you in bed with me, so I invaded the laundry hamper. I don’t like sleeping without you, woman. And I don’t think that’ll change as you continue on this search,” Danny told her.

CJ pulled away so she could turn to face him.

“Do you want me to resign the committee?” She tried to keep her voice neutral.

“Of course not!” Danny exclaimed. “I just want you to know that your husband, your son, and your daughter have little holes in their lives when you aren’t here.” Then, as the thought hit him, “do you want to stop?”

“No, I’m enjoying it. I miss being with all of you too, but for a few days, it’s exhilarating to be doing something like this again. In fact, Frank and Sarita asked if I’d be inter-”, she stopped in mid-sentence.

“Interested in what?”

“It’s nothing,” CJ said quickly.

“Claudia Jean.” Softly but insistently. Danny put his palm under her chin and lifted her face so he could look directly into her eyes.

“Interested in joining the Foundation’s board of directors.”

“And are you?”

“I don’t know. The board meets once a month, usually for one day, the second Wednesday. Maybe two days every once in a blue moon. Frank said that two of the current directors live in LA, one in Thousand Oaks and one in Pomona. He would send a plane for us late Tuesday afternoon; we’d meet for dinner the night before, have the main meeting the next day and return Wednesday night.”

“CJ, listen to yourself. You want to do this,” Danny told her.

“You don’t mind?”

“CJ, I never told you stop working. I supported your decision because I knew it was important to you to be home for the kids. And I want you to have what you want. Do I like the idea of you not working? Of course that machismo part of me likes it. You’re a great mom. But guess what? You were a great mom when you were travelling all over the world checking out roads. You’ll be a great mom if you spend 24 hours a month doing this. So do you want to tell the Hollises ‘yes’, darling?”

“Yes, but I feel guilty about the idea.”

“I’m sure it has to do with losing your mom so early in your life; you want them to have what you missed. But they will have it. I mean, we aren’t talking about your life in the White House, with eighteen hour days and six day weeks. You want to do it.”

“I do; I really do.”

“Okay.”

Okay,” Danny echoed. So, is there anything else you want to do?”

“Yes.”

What?”

“It.”

It?”, Danny asked.

“It,” CJ replied.

Then, moving her hand, she demonstrated exactly what “it” meant.


End file.
